


after hours

by roasthoney



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, throatfucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roasthoney/pseuds/roasthoney
Summary: "Well, I'm not," Jaebeom sighs, forlorn. He might look the part but he's always felt like he's been putting on an act, nothing more. The bad boy. The alpha to be. The whatever.Jackson pats his back in sympathy. Then, an idea hits him. "You know — someone told me about this service that might be perfect for this." Jackson, ever helpful. He digs in his pockets for a solid few minutes, then emerges with what looks like a pearl white business card. There's only two things written on it.One, the letterAembossed in jet-black ink on the front.Two, a phone number on the back.Or in other words, Jaebeom receives lessons on how to be a proper alpha.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 47
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

Today's the day. Jaebeom should be excited, he knows, but all he feels are nerves fluttering like rabid butterflies in his belly. He's not sure what he wants — well, maybe he knows what he _wants_ , but he also knows what he _needs_.

He needs to be an alpha. His family line demands it. His job quietly lined up for him after he graduates — only for alphas. His social standing. His future omega fiancé sure to come soon after. His friends and the people who flutter around him all expect him to be one thing, and he was never one to vocally protest. The simple truth is that it would make life easier. 

A social caste system that starts later in life comes with a dynamic of either crushing disappointment or affirmation of the luxury and privileged lived so far. At least that's what people tell him and so that's what he believes. 

"Are you ready?"

Jaebeom nods. Fusses with the gel in his hair but slaps his own hand, urging himself to stop. 

The room is bright white. Clinical. With a single white chair in the center and a perimeter of mirrors that he's sure the doctors are looking through. So he sits. And he waits. 

The tales talk about all the different ways one can experience presentment. Rumors say for omegas it comes as a rush of slick, an embarrassing experience of damp pants and a sudden, flushing, desire to be filled. For alphas it comes as a burst of aggression and a rush of scent marking the area around them. For betas — well, Jaebeom doesn't know, he didn't pay much attention to those parts. 

A flood of heat. He braces himself — but nothing seems to happen. 

The speaker crackles on and announces his future in one deadpan word. 

"Alpha."

—

Jaebeom's parents are proud, of course. There's a celebration to be held sometime soon and he's expected to be there, to be shown off and spoken of as someone important. Someone expected to change the future. Someone with power, with standing.

He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. 

"Who doesn't?" is Jackson's response when he hears Jaebeom voice this when they go out for drinks that night, and Jackson might be one of Jaebeom's only true friends but sometimes he isn't the best person to give advice. Jaebeom groans and drops his head to rest against the table. It's at least cool against his hot forehead.

"Yeah, but. I don't know. When do I start feeling more aggressive and shit? I have to act the part. Or else I won't be respected." he says, trying not to whine but it still comes out that way. 

Jackson hums in thought. "I dunno. Feels like I've been aggressive my whole life." Jackson barks out a loud laugh after as if to proof his point, all frenetic energy and affection since the day he hit puberty. Presenting as an alpha was never an issue for Jackson. He actually turned out early — and even to Jaebeom's neutral nose he could smell his stink (cinnamon, oolong, and anise) for weeks. 

"Well, I'm not," Jaebeom sighs, forlorn. He might look the part but he's always felt like he's been putting on an act, nothing more. The bad boy. The alpha to be. The whatever. 

Jackson pats his back in sympathy. Then, an idea hits him. "You know — someone told me about this service that might be perfect for this." Jackson, ever helpful. He digs in his pockets for a solid few minutes, then emerges with what looks like a pearl white business card. There's only two things written on it. 

One, the letter _A_ embossed in jet-black ink on the front. 

Two, a phone number on the back. 

"Try it out," he grins as he hands it to Jaebeom.

Jaebeom inspects it carefully. It might be the drink, but something about it is enticingly mysterious. "What's it for?" he asks, skeptical.

"I have no idea," Jackson admits with his usual cheer. "But I got recommended it. If I was ever having _trouble_ , you know what I mean."

Jaebeom does know what he means. "I thought those services were just rumors," he murmurs, holding the card up to the light as if there might be secrets revealed in its inner layers. 

Jackson shrugs, then clinks his small soju glass to Jaebeom's. "Maybe they are." His lips curl with the smile of a pleased messenger. "Maybe they aren't."

—

Jaebeom uses a burner phone — just in case. The voice that greets him is robotic and directs him on a complex path of prompts. Any other time he would've quit after five minutes of it but he can't stop turning the card over in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the rough tooth of textured card-stock.

Then after twenty minutes of what feels like an intensive personality questionnaire, a voice. Low. Sweet and sticky like honey. Unmistakably masculine. 

"Tomorrow, one A.M. 162 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu. Unit six. Don't be late." 

Before Jaebeom can answer the line goes dead. 

And he's rock hard.

Fuck.

—

For a service like this, he figured a luxury hotel or something akin to that would be fitting. Instead he finds himself in a drab looking office building tucked away in a secluded alley in Gangnam, no signs to be seen on what businesses are hidden inside. Something about that excites him and he quickens his step.

Jaebeom is dressed to impress. A charcoal black suit and patent leather monk-strap loafers, a platinum Rolex on his wrist for good measure. But God is he nervous and he has to dab a handkerchief at his forehead to ensure it isn't glistening with a damp sheen of sweat.

It looks like an office building inside, too. Unit six is nothing more than a blank gray door. He buzzes the bell, waits, peering around to see if there's a security camera around. There's one — he waves to it, in the lazy but effortless way he's practiced to be. 

An answering buzz lets him in.

There's a waiting room but with no one in it. Just white chairs, white walls, and a large potted plant in the corner. 

Jaebeom settles down and taps his foot loudly in the silence. He grows irritated; he was told to be here on time, yet his appointment hasn't started yet. Five minutes pass. Then ten. He fidgets, glancing at his watch too many times, and once it hits fifteen minutes he stands — only to be interrupted by another voice through another speaker. 

But it's _that_ voice. 

"You can come in now." 

Grumbling, he heads to the door and finds it unlocked. Maybe it was the entire time, maybe it wasn't. That only irritates him further and he grumbles as he enters. This room is at least a little more decorated, with a cream leather couch in the middle and a softer lighting that casts long shadows across the walls. 

He sits on the couch since that seems to make sense and waits. 

It doesn't take long for the sound of door opening behind him and the steps of someone approaching. 

"Don't turn around," the voice commands, and Jaebeom obeys. He feels hot all over. Next time he'll wear something thinner and loosing, more forgiving. There are prickles all over his skin; like there's a crawling, thrumming, need beneath them. 

The stranger stops right behind him. 

"How much do you know about this service?"

Jaebeom swallows. "Not much. Just got recommended by a friend. I'm having trouble with. Stuff. I don't know. I presented last week."

"I see." 

He hears him pacing, slowly. 

"I can help you with that. But you'll have to trust me. You have to communicate — tell me when to stop, and when to continue. What I do here is I teach. Alphas are expected to dominate, whether they prefer to or not." Jaebeom swears he hears a hint of disapproval in that last note, but he thinks he might be imagining it too. 

"Well. Regardless, I can show you how to do that."

And fuck, does that go straight to Jaebeom's groin. He takes in a sudden sharp breath and the scent of this man fills his senses — the prick of rose, heady musk, clean linen and the sweet burst of tart blackberry on his tongue. 

"We would have to touch each other, sexually. Mouths, cocks, holes. We may fuck — if it comes to that. We'll use protection if so. Our safe-word will be paradise. Do you understand and agree?" 

That clinical, clipped, tone coming out of that gentle and firm timber has Jaebeom thankful that he's sitting. Otherwise he's sure his knees would be jelly and he'd be a puddle on the floor. 

"Yes, I agree," he manages to say, astounded at his own ability to sound calm. 

"Okay. You can call me —" a pause, the slightest stutter that doesn't seem practiced, but he continues on, "Jinyoung."

Jinyoung. What a name. Jinyoung finally walks around and Jaebeom seems him in all of his glory. 

He's handsome. Fucking _hot_. With a gaze that looks like it could undress him through sheer willpower. In a suit that looks tailored to perfection. His thighs are enticingly thick. His waist narrow, yet his torso built and broad. All paired with a face that looks like it walked out of an old movie, gorgeous yet familiar and supportive. 

Jinyoung kneels. Jaebeom spreads his legs without thought. Jinyoung corrects him — nudges his knees so that they aren't so widely parted. 

"Don't be too eager. Be commanding. Not, _please suck my dick._ More — _come here and suck my fucking cock._ " Jinyoung instructs, steady and patient as he does. 

But Jaebeom hears it as a command, not an instruction, and that's confusing. Or maybe that's the point, to put him in the headspace of an omega so that he can understand how to be a proper alpha. It's all very unclear.

Jinyoung scoots closer. He rests his fingers on the zip of Jaebeom's pants. "Can I?"

Jaebeom nods, adam's apple bobbing. 

"Say _yes, you may._ Like you're giving me permission because you're gracious."

"Yes, you may," Jaebeom parrots back as directed, voice hoarse. He can swear he sees Jinyoung frown but the expression disappears as quickly as it appears. 

He unzips Jaebeom's fly and mouths at his clothed cock. Jaebeom swears. He grips the edge of the sofa, pulling at it to restrain himself. Jinyoung is more than talented at this and he's sure it must be because of numerous pupils he teaches. 

The thought makes something sour turn in Jaebeom's stomach.

Jinyoung reaches for his hand and that makes his heart leap up into his throat, but it's so he can direct Jaebeom's hand to his hair. "Grip." Jaebeom follows. "Pull me down." Jaebeom tries, but it's hesitant. "Harder," Jinyoung directs, gaze sharp, and Jaebeom tries again, pressing Jinyoung's face down against his dick. The pressure is nice. But, well, just nice. 

Jinyoung distracts him from that train of thought by tugging the band of Jaebeom's briefs down and immediately swallowing him in one go. 

It's bliss. Jaebeom groans, body hot, but only strains and squirms in place. It feels good to be trapped like this. To be pinned down by that blessed mouth. To wait for Jinyoung to decide, at his whim, to please — 

A hand on his wrist interrupts him, urging Jaebeom to move him by pulling him by his hair. It's a brilliant idea. But Jaebeom isn't so good at it, nervous as he is about going too hard or too fast, and the beat ends up awkward. After a few more decent attempts, Jinyoung detaches with a pop. 

"Can you fuck my throat?" Jinyoung asks as if it's an everyday thing to want to know. 

"I, uh." Jaebeom's mouth is so dry. "I can try?" 

Jinyoung actually frowns. Jaebeom's hesitation must be too obvious. Jinyoung seems to think hard for a moment, pensive with his eyebrows knit tight together, then he rises. 

"Do you want me to demonstrate?" 

"Um." Jaebeom has never been tongue-tied before inn his life, but there he is now, lost for words. If he says yes — is that odd? Is this how this usually goes? What if people catch wind of this, find out that Im Jaebeom likes to get his throat fucked? 

"Would it help you learn?" Jinyoung helpfully supplies, and Jaebeom nods quick, thankful to take a plausible excuse when he sees one. 

"Tap my leg if you want me to stop. Understand?" 

Jaebeom nods again and Jinyoung tilts his head. "Say yes, so I can be sure."

"Yes," Jaebeom croaks and watches, rapt, as Jinyoung unbuckles his belt and slowly drags down the zip. He wants to see. He wants to taste right now — no later. He swears his mouth is salivating. Jinyoung moves at an excruciating slow pace as he tugs his cock out and by the end of it Jaebeom is straining not to touch himself in a plea for some relief. But he knows, somehow, that if he did so then Jinyoung would disapprove. 

Jinyoung slides onto the couch so that his crotch is right in front of Jaebeom's face and his alpha scent is overwhelming. Something about it clashes terribly with his own — a combination that screams wrong. Like the scent of oxidized earth after a lightning strike, or a grinding noise that puts your nerves on edge. Like the core of him wants, and his body too, but that primal internal hierarchy left somewhere in his d.n.a. would rather cannibalistically consume his insides and replace it with pure domination.

But what would be left of him then? Jaebeom doesn't know. But it's deliciously intense, a spark to gunpowder, a high that far surpasses any omega he's caught a whiff of or even tasted before presentment.

"Fuck," Jaebeom swears without thinking, and Jinyoung grabs him by his hair, yanking his head back so that their gazes connect. 

"Did I say you could speak?" he asks, soft but threatening in a wonderfully thrilling sort of way. 

"No," Jaebeom murmurs, lowering his lashes in a way he never expected to do before.

It's all a blur after that. Jinyoung's cock jammed into his throat so rough and sudden it makes him gag, but he tries his best to accommodate, swallowing and opening, tears springing to the corners of his eyes, wanton moans despite — or because of — the way he chokes. His neck presses back against the top of the couch from the force of Jinyoung's thrusts. His hands hover around the sides of Jinyoung's thighs, ready to tap if he needs to.

He doesn't.

Jinyoung fucks mercilessly. He takes what he wants without question. Spit dribbles out of Jaebeom's mouth and his eyes flutter shut. It's absolute bliss. He gasps for air between thrusts and Jinyoung seems to time it perfectly so that he isn't without it for too long, as rough as he is. 

Jaebeom reaches for his ass and it's perfect — of course — a round, thick, handful to squeeze and pull even closer so that his lips kiss the end of Jinyoung's shaft and he smells Jinyoung in all of his alpha glory, pure sex and unforgiving pleasure. 

Jinyoung pulls out suddenly and Jaebeom feels dazed, eyes glassy, mouth wide open and lips puffed pink. 

"You can't even try this on me right now, can you?" Jinyoung murmurs, brushing Jaebeom's swollen lip with the rough pad of his thumb as he does, and Jaebeom can't summon up with a response with how addled he feels. 

He can only think of one thing. 

Blessedly, Jinyoung resumes and Jaebeom promptly loses himself again in the feel of gagging and sucking on Jinyoung's cock. 

"Touch yourself," Jinyoung commands, and Jaebeom obeys. "Come for me." With nothing more than a desperate press down onto his covered dick and Jinyoung in his mouth, he does, with more intensity than he's ever experienced before. It feels like a rush of flames licking down his body. A new sinful, delicious, experience. 

Paradise.

Jinyoung pulls out before he comes and tucks himself away. Dazed, Jaebeom can only watch. 

"You have a lot to learn," he says as he re-buckles his belt, and Jinyoung's hands might be barely trembling but it's hard to tell with all of the adrenaline coursing through Jaebeom's veins. 

"Next week. Same time." The look Jinyoung gives him is searing. But he walks away, dress heels clicking against the floor, and he's gone — just like that. 

Jaebeom is a melted pile of fucked out goo on the couch. He stares up at the ceiling. His throat feels so raw he's sure that he won't be able to speak louder than a whisper tomorrow. 

"Fucking hell," he rasps, wondering what the hell it is that he's gotten into. But to get to see Jinyoung next week — that has him excited. Because he wants this again. This lesson (even if he's momentarily forgotten what it is he's supposed to walk away knowing). 

He'll learn — eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

Lesson two begins the same way. The same unassuming office with an empty waiting room, except this time there's no delay and this time Jaebeom walks in knowing a hint of what it is he's to expect. 

He's been thinking about it all week — couldn't stop replaying it in his head every night, and he swears his dick is about to go raw with how much he's been jerking off. That's a good sign though, he thinks. His alpha private tutor (lessons of an entirely different kind) tells him in the most boring, dry, tone that an increase in libido is expected. He may start to feel more short tempered. More commanding. More like a _leader_.

Jaebeom really only feels the libido part, but maybe the rest has yet to kick in. 

"Come in." 

He nearly leaps off of his seat once he hears but then decides to play it cool, fiddling with his collar as he strolls in. He throws the doors open (because isn't that what alphas do?) and startles once he sees Jinyoung sitting there on the couch in front of him, looking as cool as one can be. 

"Oh. Hi," he says awkwardly before collecting himself. 

"Welcome," Jinyoung greets, voice still as pleasant as brown sugar syrup. Jaebeom thinks he could listen to that voice all day, everyday. His skin immediately prickles and his cheeks color. 

"We'll start lesson two today. Come stand in front of me," Jinyoung directs and Jaebeom follows. 

When he nears — the punch of a saccharine sweet scent assaults his senses. He wrinkles his nose without thought. "You smell different," he says, internally wistfully longing for what he breathed in last time. This is thick and cloying, like a perfume, or an overripe peach turned into manufacturered candy. 

"I do." Jinyoung undresses his pants without blinking. "It's artificial omega scent. It's not the most accurate, but it should help immerse you in the exercise. Does it smell good?"

Jaebeom snaps out of his reverie of watching Jinyoung unsheathe his toned, long, wonderful, legs, and hashes out a quick lie. "Uh — yeah, just smells fake. I'm not used to it." 

Jinyoung pulls off his briefs and there he is, in all of his glory, looking like a dream come true. Without even pausing he uncaps a bottle that Jaebeom didn't notice was on the other side of the couch, and promptly spreads and raises his legs. A _generous_ dripping handful of the stuff gets squeezed into his palm and he dollops it around his hole.

"Artificial slick," Jinyoung explains, looking impressively unfazed as he spreads it evenly. 

It takes a lot of willpower for Jaebeom not to gape. 

"Can I?" Jaebeom asks, mouth dry, and Jinyoung levels him with a look. "Can you think of a way to say that differently?"

Jaebeom _tries_. He sincerely wants to. But all his brain can summon up in short notice is a plea to service the gorgeous sight laid out in front of him. "I'm going to finger you now," he tries, and it's decent despite the tentative and reverent edge to it. 

He coats his hand in the slick. He takes a sniff — cloyingly sweet, just like the scent, and he's starting to think slick isn't the big deal that all the other alphas make it out to me. There's an unhealthy about of porn out there with omegas soaking the sheets and squirting streams of it with overdramatic cries, an overall obsession that seems like it should be hot but never did much for Jaebeom's erections. 

Caught in a moment of boldness, he brings his fingers up to Jinyoung's entrance and rubs. Back and forth, getting firmer as he follows the dip of Jinyoung's hole.

"Is that good?" he asks, eyes on Jinyoung's face to try and catch some positive feedback. There's a flutter of pleasure here and there but the other man is extremely professional about it all. Tense, even. Sculpted muscles showing with ease and Jaebeom would not mind those arms wrapped around him.

"Just take, don't ask." 

That doesn't seem so nice, Jaebeom thinks. But maybe alphas aren't supposed to be nice. 

"Say something like this. _What a cute hole. That's mine to fuck. I'm going to open you up nice and wide for my alpha cock,_ " Jinyoung says, adopting a tone that makes his filthy words somehow sound endlessly sophisticated, filthy hot instead of cringeworthy. Or maybe that's his dick thinking for him because those words get him hard faster than anything else. 

"What a cute hole," he repeats, but Jinyoung interrupts, "not exactly — don't repeat it. Think, Jaebeom. I won't be there feeding words in your ear as you fuck your omega, will I?"

It's obviously a rhetorical question but the thought of it makes Jaebeom flush. Jinyoung could direct him through it. He could just be — doing whatever Jinyoung wants him to do, following his every direction. His reaction doesn't go unnoticed but before it can be commented on he shoves two fingers in, well-lubed but still a surprise, and Jinyoung's answering groan seems to at least mean he's doing something right. 

"Good," Jinyoung praises, and that does something to Jaebeom's groin. 

Jaebeom slides and spreads his fingers, now thinking entirely of what it is that Jinyoung would say to him. He's the instructor and all — he would know. So he's channeling the person who's supposed to be teaching him. That totally works. Jinyoung might not accompany him to his future fiancé's bed but if he can keep him in his head, well. That might be the solution. 

"You're opening so good for me," Jaebeom tries and feels the pleasure of approval bloom in his chest when Jinyoung gives an affirming nod. He curls his fingers, searching for the right spot. "I wonder if I should. If you deserve all this work to make you feel good," Jaebeom says. It works because these are things he can imagine Jinyoung saying to him and maybe that's a convoluted way to get about it but it _works._

"Tell me you don't. But you're doing this just for yourself," Jinyoung says short of breath. He pulls his legs up further, hooking his hands behind his knees, and Jaebeom veers closer as if he's been magnetized. He almost falls on top of him but braces himself using his other hand on the couch. His hand doesn't even stutter through it all. 

"I'm doing this because I like how you look." Jaebeom lets out a satisfied noise when he sees Jinyoung's toes curl, knowing that he's struck treasure. His tongue feels slow — but what would Jinyoung say, what would he want him to do, what would happen if Jaebeom was the one spread out on the couch before him. "Want you to fuck me. I mean — to fuck you." 

Jinyoung gives him a look that feels as if it pierces right through him. "You want me to fuck you, Jaebeom?" he asks in a dangerously low tone. That doesn't sound on topic. 

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean — fuck." Jaebeom's wrist loses its rhythm. "I mean. Fuck, I don't know." 

He's wavering. Prey in a world of predators. 

Jinyoung ruthlessly flips them over, pinning him down. Jaebeom peers up at him, stunned silent, hand still dripping wet with fake slick. 

"You can't be weak, Jaebeom," he says so low, looking more like a devourer than the offering he was before. "If you show weakness — they'll take you down. They're ruthless. You have to be too, to make it in this fucked up world." Jinyoung strips Jaebeom in record speed. 

"Why's it matter, how I fuck?" Jaebeom asks but he already knows the answer. _It just does_. In a society based on sexual hierarchies of dominant leaders breeding, and submissive subordinates to be bred — sex is everything. It permeates all. Even if people pretend not to talk about it, news spreads and it means more than it should. 

"Because," Jinyoung growls, sliding his fingers between Jaebeom's legs to rub at his hole, already dipping the tips in and out in a maddening tease, "I want you to survive." 

He thrusts a finger in and Jaebeom writhes. It's too soon, too fast, but the burn makes it hotter and he feels caged in by Jinyoung's unforgiving arms. "If I was ruthless I'd fuck you right now," Jinyoung says with his mouth pressed right against his ear, stern and threatening all at once. "I wouldn't even stretch you out. But if you were an omega you wouldn't need it. You'd be wet and dripping open for me, wouldn't you?"

Jaebeom bites his tongue, denying Jinyoung the satisfaction only to see what he might do. He's rewarded well. Jinyoung abruptly stops and nibbles at his earlobe. "Answer me or else I won't start again." 

Jaebeom squirms to test that promise. It stays good — Jinyoung stays still, even when Jaebeom tries to rock his hips to entice him into moving. The denial feels wonderful; the look on Jinyoung's face even better, absolutely intense and only focused on him. 

"I — yes." 

Jinyoung smiles. It's beautiful. Angelic, even, but Jaebeom knows by now that thinking of him as anything other than devious would be a very bad idea. 

"Good." With that, he pistons his hand sudden and deep, fingerfucking him with pinpoint accuracy so that he presses right against Jaebeom's prostate and Jaebeom shakes from the force of white hot pleasure shooting through him. He moans without shame, throwing his head back spreading his legs as wide as he possibly can. 

"Fuck me already," Jaebeom sobs — no, demands, and that puts a glint in Jinyoung's eye. 

"Also good," Jinyoung hums and pauses to grab a condom for the nearby side-table. 

"I'm clean," Jaebeom rasps, and God knows what he's saying but he can't stop, "and if you are too. Just fuck me." 

Jinyoung gives him a look that twists like a hot knife his belly and returns to him. He folds his legs up, over his shoulders even, and Jaebeom looks as if he might be folded in half to the point of snapping but he doesn't care. 

"Look at you," Jinyoung murmurs, sweeping his hands up and down Jaebeom's thighs, and then he seems to remember why they're there. "Such a slut for me, aren't you?" He dips his fingers in Jaebeom's hole as if he's testing how gaping he is, just to know. Not to do anything with.

A full body shudder ripples through Jaebeom's body. "Fuck yes. Your dirty omega slut." It sounds like a line he's heard thousands of times in thousands of pornos. Jinyoung raises his eyebrows, and pauses to contemplate. 

"What about my dirty alpha slut?" he muses, sliding two fingers into Jaebeom's mouth so he looks obscene and dirty sucking the digits which were just in him. Tastes too sweet— all fake, all wrong. But this sounds right. He nods, and Jinyoung continues. "Big bad alpha, pinned under me like this. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He knows he should say no. It's sacrilegious; completely condemned by society. It would make him and outcast and an absolute disappointment to almost everyone he knows and loves. To be debased, ruined, dominated like this. 

Yet he wants it more than anything. Jaebeom nods. 

Jinyoung squeezes his cheeks, parting his lips. "Didn't I make it clear that I want to hear your voice?" 

"Yes," Jaebeom follows, quickly learning how Jinyoung wants this to go. 

"And?" 

"Yes, I'd like that. Please." His eyes squeeze shut when he feels Jinyoung press against his entrance, right there but not far enough. He waits, chest heaving, but it doesn't come. 

"What should I do next?" Jinyoung asks, sounding infuriatingly calm.

Jaebeom blinks at him, desperately trying to come up with the right words to react to this situation. "What the fuck?" he swears, starting to feel the ache in his joints from the tense angles his body is pressed into. 

"What'd you mean, you don't know?" Jaebeom says, dumbfounded, frustration welling up and mixing with all of his need. 

"I just don't know." Jinyoung rocks and Jaebeom whimpers. 

"You — fuck." Jaebeom rocks back, his patience and nerves slipping away from him. Jinyoung won't stop looking at him in that blank, unfazed, way. It's like a slap in the face how unaffected he looks compared to Jaebeom's desperation — and that inflames him, eroding at his self-control.

"You fuck me that's what," he finally snaps, reaching down to hold Jinyoung's cock still so he can arch his hips and sink, at least, the blunt tip in. 

Jinyoung licks a stripe down his throat. "Good job." And with that, a snap of his hips, splitting Jaebeom open without warning, and not a moment to adjust before he's fucking him with enthusiasm. 

"Oh _fuck._ " He can only hold on for dear life. Jinyoung cradles him in his arms as he rams into him and he's never felt so alive before, so physical, his entire body an electric reminder of what it feels like to live. 

"You're learning," Jinyoung rumbles and continues his unforgiving pace. "It's not as simple as fucking and being fucked, is it?" And damn Jinyoung for sounding so measured even in the wet heat of their dance on this too fucking small couch, leather sticking uncomfortably to his sweaty ass and painfully shifting with each thrust. 

"'S not," Jaebeom slurs, letting himself melt into it. 

Then — finally, the first indication of Jinyoung's self control slipping, a soft curse as he growls in Jaebeom's ear, "you. You have to make it, fuck." He reaches for the bottle and, without a single pause, squeezes more slick all over Jaebeom's cock, the space where their bodies meet, turning it into a loud, heated, mess, liquid pooling underneath him. It feels like that mess is his. Like he's made it, pouring slick everywhere like a wanton omega. 

"Can you come like this?" Jinyoung grunts and Jaebeom responds, quick and trained, "yes, _yes_." He feels Jinyoung's knot swelling and explodes all at once — a wave of ecstasy, his release wetting his already drenched stomach, shaking and convulsing. But he doesn't stop, and he levels Jinyoung with an obscene look as he continues rocking for him, sending a clear message.

Jinyoung comes inside of him with a deep moan. His mouth hovers over the side of Jaebeom's neck, hot breath ghosting his skin and sending post-orgasm shivers down his sides. If things were different — if he could mark him with a bite, right now, locked together, then he would be his. 

It should be awkward now, stuck with Jinyoung's knot inside of him. But he feels comfortable even on top of him and with him this close, Jaebeom can smell traces of his original smell beneath the cloying tricks, warm and comforting. 

"So," Jaebeom coughs, because as much as he would like to continue like this he feels obligated to ask, "is there a trick to getting out of this too?"

Jinyoung huffs out a laugh. "No, the only thing we can do is wait." He sounds slightly regretful. That's not what Jaebeom intended, and his brain stutters on the sudden new need to pivot the mood. But Jinyoung continues, "this... doesn't usually happen." 

"Oh." Jaebeom wobbles, then recovers. "Not with your other clients?"

Jinyoung shifts before responding, the movement in a sensitive (and sore) place making him grimace. He utters a low apology, and says, "no, not with them."

Us and them. Jaebeom likes that. 

Well — he would if he were a sentimental fuck, but he's _not_. He would slap himself to snap out of it if he could. 

"What makes this different? From a teaching view, I mean. Because I'm trying to learn." Lying does not come easy to Jaebeom, but he can manage it sometimes.

Jinyoung shifts them onto their sides and that tugs at the knot — jolts through his lower half in good and bad ways — and settles them into a slightly more comfortable position. 

"Most of my clients are stubborn in a different way. They want practice with someone who can guide them on how to be better for their future matches. The urge is there. Usually new alphas or older alphas who're looking for new partners." 

"And me?"

It shouldn't sound so vulnerable. It does. 

It's nearly invisible, the way Jinyoung goes a little bit more tender. "You're different, Jaebeom. That's okay. Different people need different approaches." 

Jaebeom nods, throat stuck. He doesn't know what to say — but that's okay, because the silence between them is something comfortable. The room might be clinical but the mood isn't, not when Jinyoung is a warm and solid presence behind him. His heartbeat begins to slow back to normal. The connection between them is comforting, soothing even.

Then after what feels like only a few minutes, Jinyoung shifts and with a slight amount of uncomfortable pressure, he slides out. The knot's swelled down enough for them to separate. A part of Jaebeom feels empty; it shouldn't, since he doesn't have the biology equipped to want to be knotted and marked. 

But the feeling still exists. 

"Next week, same time," Jinyoung says as he rises with maybe a touch more care than last time. 

"Yeah. Sounds good," Jaebeom agrees, mind empty.

"Towels, wipes, and spare clothes are in that dresser. Help yourself." 

"Okay." 

Jinyoung pauses. This is where he should leave, but the blank look that Jaebeom is giving him looks wrong. He goes down on one knee and presses a dry kiss to Jaebeom's forehead. "It gets easier."

Jaebeom nods, mouth dry, and watches as Jinyoung takes his now familiar exit. 

He shouldn't feel this — changed. Like the axis of his world's tilted one degree and that's made all the difference. 

He groans, muttering into the air, "what the hell am I doing?"

The only answer is the cloying scent of peach slick smeared all over his body and the couch beneath him, and he sighs.

Being an alpha is _hard._

**Author's Note:**

> you can reach me at [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/roasthoney) & [@twitter](https://twitter.com/roasthoneyed), let me know what you think!


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